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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840939">Glimmer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Coisa Mais Linda/Most Beautiful Thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation afterwards.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thereza Soares/Helô Albuquerque, Thereza Soares/Helô Albuquerque/Nelson Soares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Glimmer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Coisa Mais Linda/Most Beautiful Thing or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The phone rings, and Thereza doesn’t even move—Helô certainly doesn’t; it’s not her house, and no one should know she’s here. Not that she feels much shame for it. Thereza and Nelson certainly don’t seem to. Thereza even kissed her right in front of Chico, and Chico’s dull eyes had flickered towards them for half a second before returning to his instrument. Nelson sighs as he pushes himself up, and he bothers pulling his underwear up before climbing out of bed, but that’s all. Helô’s eyes follow his bare retreating back. His footsteps fade, and then it’s just the two of them: Thereza and Helô sprawled out in the Soares bed. Maybe just the way she wanted it.</p><p>It’s nice to have Mr. Soares’ approval. Helô always knew there’d be a higher likelihood that all her love would be conducted in the dark, but she never <i>wanted</i> to sneak around. She doesn’t even mind including him, not if it means getting <i>this</i>: the afterglow with the glorious Thereza Soares. It’s wonderful not to have to collect her soiled clothes and sneak off in the dead of the night, head hung, left alone. It’s the middle of a beautiful sunny afternoon, and Helô rests her head on Thereza’s pillow, breathing in the smell of her floral shampoo.</p><p>Thereza’s propped against the headboard, a cigarette in her hand, like it almost always is. She rolls it lightly between her slender fingers, drawing long and deep, half-lidded eyes somewhere off in the distance. Her golden hair spills down her peach shoulders in rich waves, only a little mussed from the multitude of eager fingers that ran through it. When Helô closes her eyes, she can still feel her fingers in Thereza’s hair. Sometimes she pictures that at work, when she’s having a particularly hard day. She thinks of little things, like brushing back Thereza’s sunshine-yellow hair and fastening her bra up in the back, other times much fiercer things, like stealing fervent kisses in the unisex bathroom or being bent right over Thereza’s desk. </p><p>Thereza breathes out a wisp of hazy smoke. Her mouth tastes like an ashtray, and Helô still loves it. Helô murmurs just for conversation, “Your husband’s nice.”</p><p>Thereza’s blinks, and then those gorgeous eyes are staring down at Helô’s naked body. Helô rolls onto her stomach, the slope of her back disappearing beneath the rumpled sheets. Lifted up on her elbows, Helô offers a smile.</p><p>An enigmatic smile flashes back. Thereza snorts, “<i>Nice?</i>”</p><p>Helô shrugs. “He seems... sweet.” Sweet enough to let his wife bring her mistress over, at least. As far as Helô can tell, her presence hasn’t ruined their household. It’s not the ideal, but it’s something. Thereza’s languid look is difficult to read.</p><p>Knowing that this could’ve happened—and now knowing she’s not the first—Helô asks, “Why didn’t you want me to meet him?”</p><p>Thereza never said she didn’t, exactly. But Helô’s more perceptive than most give her credit for. Thereza takes a moment to answer. She even glances away again, and her arm crosses a little tighter over her lap. She sinks a little deeper into the headboard. Her body curves, leg lifting up beneath the blanket, chest still exposed, and Helô enjoys eyeing those supple curves while she waits for her answer. Everything about Thereza is <i>beautiful</i>. </p><p>Thereza has been the center of Helô’s world for a while now. In every sense. Thereza plucked her out of obscurity and offered a real <i>career</i>, a place in the world, a <i>voice</i> where she had none. Thereza’s not just a passion, but an inspiration. Helô doesn’t have much to offer in return besides sheer ardour, so it’s a surprise when Thereza muses, “I didn’t really want to share you.”</p><p>A warmth stirs in Helô’s chest that has nothing to do with Rio de Janeiro’s blazing sun. Thereza takes another drag of her cigarette and goes on, “Maybe I liked having you as my dirty little secret... or at least all to myself...” Her shoulders slump with a sigh, and she all but purrs, “Nelson’s a good man... but you’re meant for a woman’s touch, aren’t you, Helô?”</p><p>Grinning wide, Helô rises up. She shuffles across the small space between them and tilts to peck Thereza’s cheek, promising, “You’re my favourite.”</p><p>“Mm,” Thereza hums, coyly challenging, “You screamed pretty loud for him.”</p><p>“But it was your name I screamed, wasn’t it?”</p><p>Thereza chuckles. The dour look finally leaves her handsome face, the flush of their recent joy coming back. She lifts her free hand to cup Helô’s chin, her thumb brushing Helô’s cheek. </p><p>She pulls Helô in for another kiss, long and deep. Helô responds in kind, because Mr. Soares is nice, but Mrs. Soares is <i>everything.</i></p>
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